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From the Archives: November 1981
IN THE PAST two years, I’ve done two smart things: I went fishing last summer, and then I went fishing again this summer. Fishing is teaching me the art of waiting. And how to wait is what Mark 13:32-37 and the spirit of Advent are all about.
There is the obvious parallel: The very act of fishing, like the celebration of Advent, is a ritual of hope. Both are filled with expectation; we are waiting for something.
But some similarities are more subtle. Don’t be deceived by tranquil scenes of grandpa, fishing pole in hand, leaning against a tree, eyes closed, lazing away ... Take it from me, to be truly fishing is to be constantly on guard. You are always watchful, always mindful, always alert for the slightest touch on the line. The attention is so focused that eventually you can feel or hear a fish circling the bait. But if the concentration breaks, even for a split second, chances are you’ve missed what you were waiting for.
Pockets of Love and Fear
The peasant voices of Haiti
Behold the Nonviolent One
'Receive Me, Lord'
The question I wrestle with is: do I live as a person of hope?
Letter to an Experimenter with Truth
Civil disobedience: a forum
Ritual Of Hope
Meditations for Advent